Play
by AnnieAnnProps
Summary: Some more kinky love between Fareeha and Angela. Role-play of Angela being a spy in Fareeha's military encampment and gets caught in the act. And Fareeha does quite enjoy punishing people.


Happy holiday eve of whatever the fuck mates. My family was never too big on holidays, so here I am, writing smut. So whether you're bored at a family party or just looking for some fun, here you go. Enjoy cause ooo buddy, I quite enjoyed writing this Pharmercy piece.

Inspired by the very talented nil-elk over on tumblr with their art work (search up ".play."). Cheers mate, I've been mulling over this one for a bit.

* * *

The Saturday passes like any other.

They rise together, well, almost, Fareeha always at 7am sharp no matter the day; and Angela…two hours later on a good day. But today is an excellent day, one that fills the both of them with nervous butterflies and leaves them intoxicated with anticipation.

So together they rise with only a twenty minute gap, quietly with soft kisses and a hearty breakfast. The hours flit by with household chores and half an hour of spontaneous dancing when Angela's favorite song plays on the radio, and her other one, and then Fareeha's favorite song. Not that Fareeha minds, she learned a few moves from her army buddies. That and she can't help but mirror Angela's oh so warm smile as they twirl and dip.

And then they settle down, to an early dinner that they eat at a restaurant because they're too giddy to risk cooking. On the streets, in the warm spring air, they're hands tremble when they are not intertwined in each other's.

To a conversation that is constantly interrupted with giggles and moments of getting lost in each other's eyes, Fareeha helps Angela into her uniform and likewise the other way away. Angela's fingers pause for a moment after fastening the final button at Fareeha's throat, her eyes following the bob of her Adam's apple.

A breath, sometimes they both forget how absolutely stunning the other is.

The boundaries are set, a concise yet vague list of events for the evening.

"Safeword?"

"Red."

"And to slow down?"

"Yellow."

"If you cannot speak?"

A shudder runs down Angela's spine. _If she cannot speak._ Angela sharply raps twice on the table nearby as well as flashing two fingers out.

The time is coming, neither of them can believe it, the month it took to secure everything felt like a lifetime. From an embarrassing dream to teasing to finally a conversation and now this.

Fareeha brings Angela's face up for a kiss, slow and sweet.

"I love you." She says, barely a whisper.

"I love you, too." Angela replies, her hands playfully cupping Fareeha's ass through her field pants.

A hearty chuckle bubbles out of Fareeha's throat. She leans in close to Angela's ear, tightening her grip of her hips ever so slightly.

"Enjoy touching while you can, _habibti,_ you won't be using those hands tonight."

In a rush of coy amusement, Angela pulls her face back and looks sharply at Fareeha with a smirk. Her fingers dig deeper and she sees Fareeha bite her lip to stifle the noise of escaping her mouth. Angela doesn't have a verbal comeback, but seeing Fareeha's slightly flustered face is enough for her.

Another quick kiss before Fareeha steps away and heads to the garage.

"I'll see you in an hour." Fareeha says.

"I'll try not to keep you waiting," Angela calls back as she takes a seat at the dining table, internally screaming at just how well those pants frame Fareeha's backside.

Forty minutes crawl by, Angela's mind racing too fast for her to really focus on the medical journal she has pulled up. Finally the alarm on her phone goes off. She calls a cab and rides it to the entrance of a ranch on the outskirts of town. Angela pays the driver, pulls the trench coat closer to her body; no need in causing the cab driver all the confusion at the sight of her field medic uniform.

Up the dirt road, Angela finds Fareeha's car and leaves her coat there.

There's even a post-it note on the passenger seat with a little smiley face and a heart drawn onto it. It makes Angela's heart forget it's beating a like a jackhammer and simply melt at how dorky the woman could be.

The path beside the car leads Angela over a small hill where she can see the large army tent set up in the rolling fields of golden, tall grass. She wrings her hands together one last time before momentarily clenching them into tight fists. A fantasy come true, it almost feels real as the breeze fills the silence with the songs of rustling grass.

Show time; fear, excitement, pure giddiness all rolled into one.

Angela makes the farce attempt of checking over her shoulders for any witnesses as her hands search for the edge of the tent flap. Quickly, she slips in, heart pounding, every sense heightened for what is scripted to come.

But she doesn't know when, doesn't know exactly how. So she wanders about the tent. There are stacks upon stacks of cardboard boxes, most of them blank, some labels with "Helix" in black marker. Theoretically, she would be searching for any information to send back to her commanders about the enemy she has successfully infiltrated as a transfer medic. But in reality, Angela is searching for any clue as to where Fareeha has-

"Good Evening, doctor."

Angela's back snaps straight at the sudden voice and her body freezes in mid-step. Even through the fabric of her uniform, she can feel the cold barrel of a pistol press into her lower back. She is deeply impressed at how quietly Fareeha was able to sneak up behind her.

"The medical supplies are in the other tent." Angela screws her eyes shut, quickly losing herself to the emotions of the scene, the fear of being caught in a place she shouldn't be. "But that's not what you're here for, it is, _doctor_ _?"_

The firearm digs hard into her back at the last word that comes out like a dirty sneer.

Quick as lightening, Angela spins around and twists the gun, forcing Fareeha to choose between a broken finger and the loss of her pistol. The gun goes flying, skidding across the canvas floor of the tent; Fareeha having chosen the latter. They spar for a moment, falling onto instincts and training rather than choreography. A dance, strikes aimed at different locations; Angela was trained to wound and escape, Fareeha was trained to disable and subdue.

Angela does manage to land a solid hit to Fareeha ribs before her arm is caught and twisted behind her. With pain exploding from her strained shoulder, Angela is forced to the floor with Fareeha's body pressed tight against her back.

They both fight to remain steady, panting to catch their breaths. The jingle of handcuffs reaches Angela's ears before she feels the chilly bite of metal encase her left wrist, and then the other. She stays kneeling, face to the floor even after Fareeha stands back up. Lifting her head up, she sees Fareeha dusting off her hands and walking over to pick up the discarded pistol.

It's a slight of hand, in any other situation, the cocking of a gun would've sent Angela's mind into a panic. But she catches Fareeha's intent; the pull back of the slide, the vacant chamber.

The pistol is empty, and Angela's mind is set at ease. At least slightly.

Even with that knowledge, Angela's heart still leaps when her head is yanked back and the barrel is dug into the underside of her chin. She swallows thickly, feeling her throat rub against the metal. Opening her eyes, Angela is greeted with Fareeha crouched down in front of her; face stern and dangerous.

The sun outside has just reached the point of filling the tent in a fiery orange, highlighting the sharpness of Fareeha's amber eyes.

"Thought me a fool, didn't you?" Fareeha says, moving her head from Angela's hair to her chin. She forces Angela to look at her, enjoying the defiant grit of the doctor's teeth. "Who sent you?"

"You're a fool if you think I'm going to talk," hisses Angela.

"You don't need to, I already know everything. I wanted to give you a chance to cooperate." Fareeha says, pulling Angela back to her feet. "But since you won't,"

Fareeha presses herself tight onto Angela's back, growling into her ear with a hand back at her throat.

"It's under my jurisdiction to deal with spies like you. However I _fucking_ like to."

Angela squirms against Fareeha's unrelenting hold, gasping out as a hand roughly pats her down for any weapons. Finding none, Fareeha sets the pistol onto the back of Angela's head, the other hand going to unlock the handcuffs.

"You are to undress yourself completely when I tell you so. Any 'funny business' will be met with severe punishment, understood?"

Angela isn't even thinking of fighting back at the moment, her mind a haze with adrenaline. She winces when the barrel raps against her skull.

"Answer me, _pet"_

The word sends a fresh spike of lust straight to Angela's gut.

"Understood."

Again, the barrel taps, harder.

"Understood, _ma'am."_

"Good."

With a shove, Angela stumbles forward a couple of steps before turning and glaring at Fareeha with mock indignation. In truth, Fareeha does look quite menacing in the dim light and the crisp lines of her uniform. How the buttoned shirt squares her shoulders and hugs just enough to give a hint of the muscles cut into her body. Angela's tongue darts out to wet her suddenly dry lips.

"Strip."

The command snaps Angela back into the scene, her focus returning to the pistol pointed at her. She can feel Fareeha's eyes bearing holes through her as her fingers work to undo the buttons of her shirt. Then lifting her undershirt up and over her head. Followed by her pants, underwear, and finally socks and shoes. By the end of it, her clothing is tossed into a random corner of the tent and Angela looks back to see Fareeha's lips slightly parted, pupils slightly larger than before, a flush visible despite her tanned skin.

Of course she notices these things, she is a doctor after all.

"On your knees, pet." And she catches the slight raise in pitch in Fareeha's voice.

The moment Angela is on the floor, the realization of being _very exposed_ compared to Fareeha's fully clothed state finally sets in. Her eyes follow Fareeha the best they can until she steps behind her. The fabric of Fareeha's fingerless gloves is scratchy against her skin as they guide her arms to her back with her forearms parallel to each other.

A sigh escapes Angela's throat at the sensation of rope winding tight and binding her arms together. Every touch sends a shudder that she must fight against; she doesn't have plans on stoking Fareeha's ego this early in the scene.

"Comfy?" The inquiry is almost rhetorical, but there is a hint of genuine concern trailing at the end of it.

"Yes ma'am." Angela says, watching as Fareeha steps away to rummages through a nearby box. It's the jingle of chains again, but this time; gentler, smaller and Angela's breath gets caught in her throat.

Fareeha returns with a set of nipple clamps dangling in one hand and a wicked smirk on her face.

"Let's see if that changes with these."

It doesn't take much for Fareeha's finger to work her nipples into hard peaks, a phantom throb of the pain to come resounds through her body. Angela can't help but watch with her lower lip clenched between her teeth as the glinting maw of the clamp edges closer and closer. Its teeth settle around her nipple, but they don't close, not yet.

"Look at me." Fareeha says, causing Angela to hesitantly tear her gaze away and obey the command. Every nerve in her body is strung like a bow, winding tight for the answer to the question of when the clamp is going to bite down.

The seconds pass, the threat of pain lingers.

"Don't toy with me." Angela growls out, trying to hide just how much she is trembling.

She gasps sharply, feeling the teeth bear down for a moment before opening back up. A hand tugs her hair tie free and sends her blonde locks down her neck and back. It gives excellent purchase for Fareeha to grab a handful and keep Angela's head from jerking down.

"You're in no position to make demands." Fareeha lets the clamp bite down again, watching the look of pain flash across Angela's face before opening it back up. She repeats the action, her grin widening with every strangled whine that Angela can't keep to herself. Until finally, she lets it stay closed and quickly sets the other onto its respective nipple.

The pain is keen at first. Angela tries to twist away but quickly stops when the movement only serves to jingle and shift the weight of the chain, tugging the clamps in different directions. She settles after a moment, breathing tight gasps until the pain fades to a constant throb in pace with her heartbeat.

Fareeha releases Angela's hair and takes a step back, eyes dragging up and down her body. Embarrassment flushes across Angela's cheeks as Fareeha looks at her like she is some museum piece.

"You look so good with those clamps, pet." Fareeha says. Her fingers start undoing the buttons of her own shirt, eyes still locked with Angela's.

One by one, Fareeha's uniform falls open and she shrugs it off, quickly pulling her black undershirt up and over her head. Angela's gaze flick to the tattoos that snake up and around Fareeha's well-muscled arms; ones that she can't help but trace every time she sees them even though she has them well memorized by now.

And of course Fareeha makes quite the show, turning to toss the clothing away and flexing her back in the process. There's nothing that Angela wants more than to run her hands over the ridges of her muscles. That, or perhaps something to sate the throb of need pounding away between her legs.

Angela forgets how to breathe at sight of Fareeha's abs as she saunters up to her.

"So beautiful." Fareeha murmurs, gently sliding her hand onto the nape of Angela's sensitive neck. Angela knows better than to ease into the gentle touch as it quickly grips hard, not to the point of hurting, but a reminder of the situation.

Of the scene, for the knife strapped to Fareeha's leg sits right below Angela's nose.

"Who does these lips belong to?" Fareeha asks, her thumb caressing Angela's lower lip, pulling it down slightly.

"You, ma'am." With the words leaving her mouth, another piece of control leaves Angela's mind.

"And this tongue?" Fingers press in, past her teeth, rubbing against her tongue with the tang of sweat.

"Yours, ma'am." Angela groans out, the words slightly misshapen with the now two digits bullying their way into her mouth.

"That's right, pet. Your tongue, your mouth; all mine to do as I please."

She does her best to keep eye contact with Fareeha, struggling to fight back her gag reflex as the fingers begin to brush against the entrance of her throat. It's rare that she's on the receiving end of such an action, but her efforts are worth it if Fareeha's shallow breathing is anything to go off of.

It takes her by surprise as Fareeha presses even further, until a half retch is forced out of Angela and her instincts make her try to twist away. But she can't, not with Fareeha's hand holding tight onto the back of her neck. Angela looks back up, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as Fareeha just holds the fingers there at the very back of her mouth.

Breathe; that's what she always tells her patients. And so she does, very slowly getting her reflexes under control.

It all compounds together, Angela's mind easing into a state of submission; the freedom of not needing to think for herself. She focuses on the soothing strokes of Fareeha's thumb on the back of her neck and the pleased look on Fareeha's face. Finally, the fingers retract, bringing with them a trail of spit she smears across Angela's chin

Fareeha pulls Angela's face forward, bringing it right up to her stomach.

"Lick." Comes the simple command and Angela is all too eager to follow.

A low groan is shared between them as Angela's tongue makes it first broad stroke across the ripples of Fareeha's abdomen. The hand holds her head there as Angela places lick after lick, relishing the familiar taste of Fareeha's skin. Her head is tilted back and Fareeha quickly goes to undo her belt of zipper.

With a hasty step forward, Angela doesn't need a verbal command when Fareeha threads her fingers into Angela's hair and guides her towards glistening folds. The position is awkward with the waistband of Fareeha's pants preventing her from spreading to give Angela enough room, but they make it work. Not that is take very long until nails begin to dig into Angela's scalp.

"That's it, pet." Fareeha groans out, a shudder rocking through her body with every hard suck Angela places onto her clit.

To see Angela on her knees, hands bound behind her back with nowhere to go. Her to use for her pleasure, to tease when the time comes, if only for this scene. Perhaps even a twinge of smug revenge for all those times their positions were switched in the past.

"Make me come." She clenches her teeth tight, hips grinding down hard onto Angela's working tongue.

The stiffening of Fareeha's thighs compress against the sides of Angela's head, holding her there just as well as the hand in her hair. Once, twice, until all movement stills and Fareeha lets out a breathless " _fuck_ " above her.

Angela licks what she can, droplets of Fareeha's climax running down her chin. The grip releases and Fareeha steps back panting slightly. Without a task, Angela's mind zeroes back in on the incessant throb of her sex. But even rubbing her legs together brings little relief; desperate for something, anything to bring satisfaction to herself.

"Impatient now?" Angela didn't even notice when Fareeha had stepped away to the box and returned with several new items. Her throat tightens at the sight of a roll of duct tape.

Unease begins to fill her mind and Angela doesn't hesitate to tell her partner.

"Yellow." Angela says nervously, warmth blossoming in her chest as Fareeha stops dead in her tracks and concern washes over her face. Fareeha doesn't hesitate and let the scene fall away and she kneels down to eye level with Angela.

"Is something wrong, _habibti?_ " she asks, hand already going for the knife to cut Angela out of her bonds.

"That's not necessary." Angela quickly clarifies, stilling Fareeha's hand. "It's the duct tape, I don't want to be gagged with that."

Fareeha nods with relief and understanding, not needing an explanation beyond Angela saying 'no'. She glances to the tape in her hand.

"Do you still want to be gagged?" It was in the script, yes, but things change. After a second of contemplation, Angela nods.

"Alright," Fareeha stands up, leaving the coils of rope but bringing the roll of tape with her back to the box. Tossing it in, to digs around a bit more and pulls out two more items. "We've got a bit gag and a ball gag."

"Ball gag."

Fareeha drops the other and returns to kneeling in front of Angela with a caring smile. She brings the gag up to her for an inspection, receiving another nod of approval. Fareeha leans in for a kiss that fills the both of them to the brim with love and affection, the gentle stroking of Fareeha's fingers through Angela's hair.

"Thank you for telling me."

"Thank you for listening."

For as heavy as the scene may get, each other's comfort is always the main concern.

It takes a second of the momentum of the scene to pick backup. Fareeha tugs on the chain connecting Angela's nipple clamps, eliciting a yelp of surprise from her prisoner. She brings one breast up to her mouth, watching carefully as she swirls her tongue around the throbbing peak.

Angela throws her head back with a moan, the pain and the pleasure mixing into a delicious blend in her mind. The break in character quickly easing away; back to the scene, back to the fingers now teasing back the hood of her clit. Soon, she's panting all over again and trying to grind herself to completion on Fareeha's hand.

Of course Fareeha pulls away with the clicking of her tongue. With rope in hand, she winds loops around Angela's arms and chest; two under her breasts, three just below her collarbones.

The rope is soft like the ones around her wrists. They pull tight and squeeze another groan from Angela's lips before she can stop herself. She remains staring forward. Every bit of her is restless for what she knows is coming next.

The knot is tied behind her back, Fareeha returns to her front with a purple egg in hand.

Angela's mouth runs dry, her legs twitch at the sight of the toy.

 _Yes, finally._

"Is this what you wanted, pet?" Fareeha asks, rolling the egg along Angela's clenched jaw.

"Yes, ma'am." She whimpers.

Suddenly, the toy springs to life, vibrating on its lowest setting against Angela's skin as Fareeha drags it lower and lower. Onto Angela's aching nipples where it sends jolts of pain and pleasure racking across Angela's nerves. To the spot on her stomach where Fareeha knows she's ticklish and Angela fights to breathe in between fits of giggles. And finally down over her trimmed hairs-

The toy falls silent and Angela lets out a groan of frustration.

"Patience, pet. You'll have your reward." Fareeha chuckles, teasing the egg at Angela's entrance before slowly pushing it in. It's embarrassing at how little effort it takes for the toy to slip in and nestle into Angela's dripping heat.

It's something, fills her yes, but not quite enough. She jerks her hips forward, perhaps finding an angle where she could get some friction onto her clit.

"Open."

Angela hadn't realized she had closed her eyes until the command comes and she sees the red ball gag hovering in front of her lips. She opens and the gag slides past her lips and behind her teeth. Its hard rubber gives slightly as she bites down experimentally.

She focuses on not drooling everywhere as Fareeha lifts her hair and buckles it into place. Try as she might, a droplet of spit already begins to peak out of the bottom corner of the gag. The moment the buckle is locked into place, the egg buried inside of her bursts to life.

"Aahhmmm!" Angela jerks forward at the sudden vibrations, feeling the spit bubble out and dribble down her chin and neck.

The ropes wrapped around her chest pull her back up. With another gentle tug, Fareeha helps Angela to her feet. With the toy still happily buzzing away inside her, Fareeha uses the rope as a leash to guide Angela around a stack of boxes to a pole with a chair facing it.

Angela can barely think straight, her feet stumbling against each other. The vibrations are not enough to make to come but they turn her brain into a needy pile of mush. Her hastening moans are muffled behind the ball gag. Soon, the ropes tighten and pull her up and up until Angela is forced to balance on the balls of her feet. The new strain is just another thing to add to the cacophony of sensations rampaging through her mind.

"Mmm _fuck_." She tries to curse through the gag, sharp pain flaring up from her breasts as Fareeha tugs once more on the clamps. Her body wants to twist away and can't get very far.

"Perfect."

Glancing up through half-lidded eyes, Angela sees Fareeha walk over the chair and take a seat; the remote in one hand and the other working to unbutton her pants and sliding under. She squirms against the ropes; the helplessness making her hornier, and the cramps in her legs making her more desperate.

 _Fuck_ , she just needs a little bit more.

Her head snaps back with a load moan, the egg kicking up a level and bringing her that much closer to the edge. Angela's jaw begins to ache with how hard she is biting down. All she hears is the buzzing of the toy and her garbled moans filling the tent.

Angela hops from one foot to the other. Her muscles are already tight from spending so long kneeling on the ground. She can't escape the constant vibrations, not that she wants to, but the dial is turned to the next notch and Angela is having so much trouble staying on her feet.

Chancing a glance, Fareeha sits in her chair, her mouth open with her own labored breathing and hand obviously working beneath her pants. It's a new feeling; to perform for an audience even if it is just Fareeha. She feels Fareeha's gaze watching her every move.

Exhilarating, thrilling, almost prideful to think that the simple sight of her is enough to get Fareeha off.

The level of the vibrations rise higher, Angela struggles harder.

So close

Their eyes lock, Angela moaning without shame now.

So _fucking_ close

With a start, Fareeha leaps to her feet, quickly closing the distance between them and, with the hand holding the remote, grips Angela's chin to look at her. Angela feels Fareeha's hot breath and quiet moans ghost over her spit soaked chin.

A flick of a finger and the toy reaches its maximum level.

"Ask for permission, _pet._ "

Angela's eyes screw shut, the words reaching her throat but only coming out as a sputtering mess. The grip on her chin bears down harder, the vibrations beginning to ease up.

"Please!" Angela grinds out in frustration. If it means Fareeha will let her come, then so be it.

The toy kicks back up. Fareeha's fingers rub faster against her clit. Her hand wraps around the back of Angela's neck, forcing her to keep her head up.

"Try harder if you'd like to come." Fareeha is riding high on the power she is holding over Angela, to see the bitter desperation take hold on Angela's face.

"Please, ma'am," the words are barely coherent through the gag. "Please ma'am. May I come?"

But she gets the point across as Fareeha buries her face into Angela's neck and sucks hard enough to leave an angry mark. The toy is turned back to max.

"Come for me, pet."

Angela screams into her gag. Her entire body jerks against her bonds and she can barely keep her balance being strung up on the balls of her feet. Fareeha grunts against her neck, her body tightening in her own climax.

Slowly, Fareeha turns the dial on the remote down until the toy falls silent and cuts the rope holding Angela up. She nearly collapses to the floor but Fareeha is there to catch her, gently easing the both of them to the ground. Fareeha wastes no time to press a kiss onto Angela's forehead and begins to unbuckle the gag from her lips.

She captures Angela's lips in her own once the ball falls away, not caring about the spit that smears onto her chin.

"Ready?" Fareeha whispers, hand hovering over the clamps.

Angela nods. She whimpers loudly as the blood rushes back into her stinging nipples, Fareeha's fingers gently rubbing to help with the process. She watches and nods again, the other clamp coming off in suit.

Next, the ropes are cut away, Fareeha pressing her lips to smooth over the red lines that they leave behind. Angela removes the egg from herself and sets it aside.

With her hands how free, she runs her hands up and down Fareeha's sides, finally getting to touch her for the first time that night. They settle on either side of her face and she pulls her in for another kiss.

And so Fareeha helps Angela into her uniform and likewise the other way away. Angela's fingers pause for a moment after fastening the final button at Fareeha's throat, her eyes following the bob of her Adam's apple.

A breath, sometimes they both forget how absolutely stunning the other is.

Just as it started, the scene draws to a satisfying ends; with lopsided smiles and twinkling eyes rather than a stomach full of butterflies. They toss everything back into the box and Fareeha carries it as they walk back to the car side by side in a comfortable silence.

The stars begin make themselves visible by the time they arrive back to the house. A bath is run, shared, and relaxed in as they drink for wine glasses in each other's arms.

"I hope it was as good for you as it was for me." Fareeha says into the back of Angela's neck, running her lips over the marks her fingers had left behind. It still surprises her how easily Angela bruised.

"It was wonderful, _leibling."_ Angela tilts her head to the side, catching Fareeha's lips for a kiss.

And so, an hour and a bottle of wine later, they find themselves in bed. Not sleeping quite yet because the night is still young and Angela has some payback to give to Fareeha.


End file.
